Sure, he knew the risks involved with being on his own. He was rapidly losing the use of his muscles and so daily routines were becoming more and more difficult. Each day seemed to present its own set of hurdles to overcome, but he knew the time had come for him to face them on his own. And he had! For the past two weeks he had found no circumstance too difficult for him to handle. Nothing except for the writing.
His mother had always been there to write down the words as he formed them in his mind. They would even joke about how she was his secretary taking down dictations. But there had been no one to take down the words in this new world of independence and he was horrified to think of all the thoughts and words that had been lost.
He looked out at the waves and their rhythmic motion across the sea. He took in the freshness of the salty air and laughed at the drunken flight of a wayward seagull. As he watched the life around him, the words poured into his mind. He hadn’t expected it and was taken by surprise. He was panicked at the thought of losing the words if not quickly put to paper, and so he motioned to a young man who was jogging in the hard sand a few feet away. Instead of stopping, he quickened the pace of his workout. Soon a family walked along in front of him and he called out to them, “Please, could you give me just a moment of your time?” Again, no help. The mother pulled the small boy close to her and walked off, periodically looking back as if somehow she expected this man in a wheelchair to suddenly stand and run after them.
Tomorrow: Questions – Part III
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